Chapter 7: Don’t Mess with Me

Hu Hao followed Li Jingsong to the base of the Army Headquarters building. He climbed into the front passenger seat while a guard took the wheel. Flanked by two armored vehicles, the small convoy surged out of the compound. Hu Hao sat back, watching the scenery flash by, while Li Jingsong sat alone in the rear, buried in paperwork.

Click. Hu Hao flicked his lighter and lit a cigarette.

Li Jingsong frowned. Though Hu Hao had cracked the window, Li Jingsong was a non-smoker, and he found the smoke in his vehicle incredibly disrespectful.

“Put it out!” Li Jingsong barked without looking up from his files.

Hu Hao acted as if he hadn’t heard a word.

“I said put it out! Are you deaf?” Li Jingsong snapped when he saw the smoke still drifting.

“You don’t smoke?” Hu Hao asked, glancing back.

“The Commander doesn’t smoke,” the driver interjected.

“That’s a shame. Once the fighting starts, you’ll be looking for a cigarette,” Hu Hao said, taking another drag. “Especially for a commander. There will be nights where you won’t sleep for days, and once the casualty reports start rolling in, you’ll be begging for a smoke.”

“Private Hu Hao, I am ordering you to throw that cigarette away. Do you hear me?” Li Jingsong growled, barely suppressing his rage.

“Fine. One last puff.” Hu Hao took a deep drag and flicked the butt out the window.

Li Jingsong glared at the back of Hu Hao’s head, but Hu Hao didn’t bother looking back.

“Commander,” Hu Hao asked from the front, “how long do you think our troops can hold out?”

He couldn’t help but analyze the situation—it was a professional habit. In his past lives, he had led massive armies through years of high-intensity warfare.

“Is that your concern, Private?” Li Jingsong retorted.

“Four days. Four days at most, one day at the shortest. But definitely no more than four.”

“One more word of defeatism and I’ll have you shot for inciting panic!” Li Jingsong warned.

“Take it or leave it, suit yourself,” Hu Hao said dismissively. “I’m just giving you a heads-up. Our military hasn’t fought in over a century. You know the state of these troops. Meanwhile, Malaguo has used its military to suppress internal rebellions, and the other nations have had small-scale skirmishes over grain and oil. They have combat experience. But hey, if you don’t want to hear it, I’m done.”

Li Jingsong’s expression shifted. He remembered the warnings from his father and uncle.

“Let’s make a bet,” Li Jingsong said suddenly. “If we hold for more than four days, what happens?”

“Then you can kick me out of the service,” Hu Hao joked, looking back.

“Dream on. How about this: you must still have some money on you. If you lose, you give me 10,000. If I lose, I give you 100,000. Deal?”

“Sure, why not? 100,000 is three years’ pay for a Private,” Hu Hao laughed.

In the Eastern Spirit Empire, the average salary was between 2,000 and 4,000 credits—high by global standards, as the Empire’s currency was the most valuable in the world.

“Deal,” Li Jingsong nodded and returned to his reading.

Three hours later, they reached the front lines—a bay where the 87th Division had established its defenses.

Upon arrival, Li Jingsong had an aide take Hu Hao to draw his combat gear and store his personal belongings. The items Hu Hao had brought from the academy weren’t allowed at the front.

At the storage depot, Hu Hao realized he hadn’t called his family yet, and he had thrown away his SIM card.

“Hey, brother, can I borrow your phone?” Hu Hao asked the clerk. “I tossed my card and need to call home. They don’t know I’m at the front.”

The soldier eyed him and handed over his phone. “Five minutes. I’m low on credit.”

“Thanks!” Hu Hao dialed his grandfather’s landline.

Hu Hao had been raised by his grandparents. His parents ran a restaurant in the city and rarely had time for him. By the time he grew up, he wasn’t close to them; they lived in the city with his younger siblings.

“Hello?” A voice—simultaneously familiar and strange—came through. Though the soul was different, the biological pull of family was something Hu Hao still valued.

“Grandpa, it’s me. Hao-zi!”

“Oh, you little rascal! I tried calling but your phone was off. You’re graduating, right? Where did they send you?”

“I’m at Army Headquarters. Don’t worry about me,” Hu Hao lied. “I might not have time to visit soon. You and Grandma take care of yourselves.”

“Don’t worry about us, just focus on your work. The news says Malaguo’s alliance is attacking. You stay safe, okay? Don’t go anywhere near the front. If it gets too dangerous, just quit and come home. We still have land for you to farm.”

“I’m perfectly safe, don’t worry. Where’s Grandma?”

“Tending the vegetable garden. I’ll tell her you called. By the way, what’s this number?”

“I’m in the Staff Office, Grandpa. We aren’t allowed to use personal phones. I’m using a work line. Don’t try to call back, I’ll contact you when I can.”

“Oh, I see.” His grandfather didn’t know much about the military and assumed that was just how things worked.

After hanging up, Hu Hao returned the phone and was led by a staff officer to the 3rd Regiment’s headquarters. From there, he was sent to the 2nd Battalion, then the 2nd Company. Finally, the Company Commander called for a squad leader named Huan Xingtao to take Hu Hao to his unit.

They arrived at a bunker. As Hu Hao set down his gear, a Private First Class (PFC) shouted, “Hey, kid! You joining up now? The new recruits aren’t even due yet.”

“I’m an exception,” Hu Hao said with a grin.

“Hu Hao, listen up,” Squad Leader Huan Xingtao said, introducing the men. “This is He Jizhong, this is Sima Xuankong…”

“Alright, Hu Hao,” Sima Xuankong interrupted, eyeing Hu Hao’s bag. “Get these socks washed. It’s damp as hell out here and we can’t go without ’em.”

“Excuse me?” Hu Hao looked at him.

“Wash the socks. Move it, there’s a pile of ’em,” Sima Xuankong ordered. The other soldiers sat back, watching the “initiation.”

“You want me to wash your socks?” Hu Hao pointed at himself.

“It’s the rule for new recruits. Didn’t the Squad Leader tell you?” Sima Xuankong looked at Huan Xingtao, who was sitting nearby smoking.

“I just picked him up from the CO, I haven’t had time. Hu Hao, go wash the socks. It’s tradition,” Huan Xingtao added.

“Heh. I have never washed another man’s socks in my life,” Hu Hao said, laughing. “Usually, people are washing mine. You really want to go there?”

“The hell? Who do you think you’re talking to?” Sima Xuankong stood up. The other soldiers followed suit.

“You know why I’m here?” Hu Hao asked calmly.

“Who cares? You’re the new guy, and the new guy listens. Or we’ll make you listen,” Huan Xingtao warned.

“Heh. Before I came here, I was a First Lieutenant. I just finished crushing the ‘eggs’ of a Major General’s grandson. You want to see if I’m bluffing?”

“Everyone can talk big!” Sima Xuankong sneered.

Wham!

Before Sima could finish, the sole of a boot was inches from his face. Hu Hao had lashed out with a lightning-fast kick, stopping just short of impact. It wasn’t a fight; it was a warning.

Hu Hao retracted his leg. The squad stared at him in stunned silence.

“Don’t mess with me. I’m more than you can handle,” Hu Hao said. He sat down in a corner and lit a cigarette.

Sima Xuankong and the others stood there awkwardly. They wanted to jump him, but they were terrified they’d lose. They had just been bullied by the new guy in front of the whole squad.

“What are you standing around for? Get some rest,” Hu Hao said, pulling a book from his bag—a map of the Southwest provinces he’d bought at the airport. “The fighting starts soon. If you have time, write your letters home while you still can.”

“Starts soon? How do you know?” Huan Xingtao asked.

“Use your head,” Hu Hao said without looking up from his maps. “Look at how many planes have taken off, and how few have come back.”